Tuesday Tales 2025-5-6 Maroon

Welcome to Tuesday Tales, powered by a small group of authors, where word prompts inspire passages in the books we’re writing. I’m working on a cozy mystery, Pumpkin Patch Murder. Our word of the day is maroon. When you finish the passage, make sure to visit all the talented authors of Tuesday Tales.

Robin’s luminous brown eyes held his gaze. “We don’t think Luella did this awful thing, Skip. She’s a convenient patsy. I know you want the real killer found and held responsible.”

“Hell yes! It’s all I want right now,” he proclaimed. “Whether it’s that Luella person or some other ground crawling vermin, I want them to pay.”

I found myself nodding vehemently.

Skip stared at me and demanded, “What are you doing? Why are you asking all these questions? What’s your stake in this?”

“Luella is innocent. In good conscience I must try and find out who belongs in jail instead of her. My godfather trusted her and would want me to do the right thing.”

“He’s in the hospital fighting for his life,” Robin put in.

“I know that,” Skip said wearily.

“He wanted me to get Tea Thyme going again. Are you aware that our portion of Pumpkin Fest has been cancelled because of Luella’s arrest?”

Elbows on the table and arms upright, his fists vibrated as if he were filled to the brim. “At the moment I don’t give a flip about the festival. Vonna’s…dead.” The final words betrayed his anguish.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I know you want the killer caught as much, or more, than anyone. It wasn’t Luella. Is there anything that comes to mind that might help us get on the right track? Maybe Vonna hinted what she wanted from Jack or mentioned that someone was threatening her?”

“I can’t think of—I can’t think.”

“A memory might come back to you that previously seemed insignificant. If it does, please, please call me.” I stood and handed him a card. “And take care of yourself.”

Robin got up, patting his shoulder as we left him at the table and made our way outside to the car. Fog was settling in, and the place was getting busier as the hour neared nine. Robin backed the car and gingerly eased the tires up onto the higher lip of the narrow rocky road. A rumble sounded behind us. A big SUV had pulled out. I slid down in the seat a little and turned my head for a better look. Wattage from the roadhouse sign revealed an older maroon model. Only its parking lights were on. They looked like eerie amber friskies floating in the creeping fog. Something about that vehicle seemed familiar.

Thanks for stopping by. I hope you enjoyed the piece inspired by the word maroon. If you haven’t done so already, check out the other excerpts at Tuesday Tales.

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